The Hypnotist

“No.”

“Did you know that your father was heavily in debt?”

She shakes her head.

“He was,” says Joona. “He owed money to criminals.”

“Right.”

“Could it be one of them who—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t understand anything,” she says, raising her voice.

“What is it we don’t understand?”

“You don’t understand anything.”

“Tell us what—”

“I can’t!” she screams.

She is so distraught that she begins to cry, straight out, without covering her face. Kristina Andersson goes over and hugs her, and after a while she grows calmer. She sits there motionless, the policewoman’s arms around her, as occasional sobs shudder through her body.

“There, there,” Kristina whispers reassuringly. She holds the girl close and strokes her head—and then suddenly screams and pushes Evelyn away, straight onto the floor. “Goddammit, she bit me … she fucking bit me!”

Kristina looks in amazement at her fingers, covered in blood seeping from a wound in the middle of her throat.

On the floor, Evelyn hides a bewildered smile behind her hand. Then her eyes roll back in her head and she slumps into unconsciousness.

23

tuesday, december 8: evening

Benjamin has locked himself in his room. Simone is sitting at the kitchen table with her eyes closed, listening to the radio; it’s a live broadcast from Berwald Concert Hall. She tries to imagine life as a single person. It wouldn’t be all that different from what I have now, she thinks ironically. I might go to concerts, galleries, and the theatre, as all lonely women do.

She finds a bottle of single malt Scotch in the cupboard and pours herself a drop, adding a little water: a weak yellow liquid in a heavy glass. The front door opens as the warm notes of a Bach cello concerto fill the kitchen; it is a gentle, sorrowful melody. Erik stands in the doorway looking at her, his face grey with exhaustion.

“That looks good,” he says.

“Whisky,” she says, handing him the glass.

She pours herself a fresh drink; they stand opposite each other and raise their glasses in a toast, their expressions serious.

“Difficult day?” she asks quietly.

“Pretty difficult,” he replies, with a pale smile.

He suddenly looks so worn out. There is a lack of clarity to his features, like a thin layer of dust on his face.

“What are you listening to?” he asks.

“Shall I turn it off?”

“Not on my account—it’s beautiful.” Erik empties the glass, holds it out to her, and she pours him another. “So Benjamin didn’t get a tattoo, then,” he says.

“You’ve been following the drama on voicemail.”

“Just now, on the way home. I didn’t have time before—”

“No.” She breaks in, thinking about the woman who answered when she called the number last night.

“I’m glad you went and picked him up,” says Erik.

She nods, thinking about how all emotions are interconnected, how no relationship is autonomous and separate, how everything is affected by everything else.

They drink again, and suddenly she notices that Erik is smiling at her. His smile, with those crooked teeth, has always made her go weak at the knees. She thinks how she would love to go to bed with him now, without any discussion, any complications. One day we will all be alone anyway, she says to herself.

“I don’t know what to think,” she says tersely. “Or rather … I know I don’t trust you.”

“Why do you say—”

“It feels as if we’ve lost everything. You just sleep or else you’re at work, or wherever it is you are. I wanted to do things, travel, spend time together.”

He puts down the glass and takes a step towards her. “Why can’t we do that?”

“Don’t say it,” she whispers.

“Why not?” He smiles and strokes her cheek; then his expression grows serious again. Suddenly they are kissing each other. Simone can feel how her whole body has longed for this, longed for kisses.

“Hey, Dad, do you know where—” Benjamin falls silent as he walks into the kitchen and sees them. “You’re crazy.” He sighs, and goes out again.

Simone calls after him. “Benjamin.” He comes back. “You promised to go and pick up the food.”

“Have you called?”

“It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” she says, giving him her purse. “You know where the Thai place is, don’t you?”

“Mum!” He sighs.

“Go straight there and back,” she says.

“Oh, please.”

“Listen to your mother,” says Erik.